by Pavel Chichikov
The Garden has missed us – where have they gone?
Say the four rivers – Pishon and Gihon,
Tigris, Euphrates that rise in the west
Where all of the sunset lands are distressed
Hyacinth droops, the petals are curled
On stems that have grown from the underworld,
Willows throw down their elongated leaves,
Mourners who tear at their tunics and sleeves
Evening shadows are muddied and dull
The colors of blossoms and flowers annul,
Silence and emptiness, nothing has voice,
Moves from its place, is aware to rejoice
Master and Mistress are banished and fled
Time is locked up in this place of the dead,
And yet as the Maker is risen from clay
They whom He made will return here some day
The garden will move with the beasts of the wing
Wind in the leaves will provoke them to sing,
The rivers will flow through the portals of Hades,
Pishon and Gihon, the Tigris, Euphrates
Pavel's Websites are at The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov and Catholic Images by Pavel Chichikov
